Supplemental Training
by OhayoHimawari
Summary: At Jiraiya's insistence, Kakashi learns the art of seduction, as well as how to keep his inner demons at bay. A Konoha Brothel story. A/N: I do not own these characters, I had a wonderful time exploring them.


**Supplemental Training**

 **A/N: My First Fic! Please consider this story to be one part Shadow of the ANBU Black Ops (a forgotten, adults-only episode), and one part prequel to the many, many fanfics in which my favorite protagonist is depicted as a sex god.**

 **Just to be clear: the protagonist is an adult in every sense of the word at the time of this story. In my imagination, right around 20 years old.**

 **I don't own these characters, I had a wonderful time exploring them.**

 _'One, two…'_

"Take good care of this one. He's-well, he's unique," Jiraiya's eyes flit between the woman that greets him at the door and the ANBU squad captain he has brought to her.

 _'…three, four…'_

"I will, Jiraiya," she smiles gently, gauging her silver-haired guest. "I promise."

With a subtle nod to her, the older man dismisses himself, leaving the younger man behind. "See you in a couple of hours, kid."

Disengaged from the conversation, the ANBU continues to survey the room silently _'…five, six. There are six exits from this room.'_

"What would you like to call me?" She's addressing the ANBU captain now, closing the door to the departing Sannin.

With his right eye, the one that's still his, the ninja appraises her. She has shiny black hair, long enough to be gathered into an intricate knot and held fast by chandelier hair sticks. The dim light twinkles off the silver flowers and lapis beads adorning them as she strolls to lean against the back of a settee in the room. Long, thick lashes frame blue eyes that are akin to the sky just before it storms. They hold experience, confirming she is older than the ANBU but younger than the Toad Sage that delivered him. His attention trails to her mouth and he likens it to a peach when she asks, "would you like tea, or something stronger?"

"Tea," his baritone voice rumbles in the room for the first time.

She nods. A slender neck leads to delicate shoulders that support the straps of a long, dark blue silk wrap dress. His dark eye skims her tapered arms to her nimble fingers when she pushes herself from the settee. The generous slit of the dress allows a glimpse of her leg-sheathed in black nylon up to the thigh-as she turns to cross the room. If he'd blinked, he would've missed the lacy hem of the stocking and hint of bare skin there. At least one part of him rejoices he hadn't. She quit the room, leaving the memory of the gentle sway of her hips behind her.

 _'Walking compliments her figure well,'_ he credits her to himself.

Rubbing his chin through the fabric mask he wears, he assesses the situation. The squad captain is unsettled by her promise to take "good care" of him. It was only out of respect for the Sannin, the recently published author, the sensei of his sensei, that the ANBU allowed himself to be brought here for this specialized, supplemental training.

 _"Look, kid, I know you can immobilize your targets, and I know you can eliminate your targets, but can you seduce your targets? Don't give me that look! Listen, you've_ been _old enough to know those missions are out there, and now you_ are _old enough to be sent out on one. Are you prepared to succeed at it?"_

The Sage had spoken, and this is where it led: an elite ANBU standing in the middle of a room, and talking himself out of a budding erection before its instigator returns with tea. He hadn't even begun to think of what to call her if he wanted to call her anything! _'Fuck it.'_ It was time to decide which of the six exits to take before her, and her legs return, and he's too tempted to lea-

"I settled on jasmine tea," she saunters in, placing a serving tray on a long table in front of the settee.

"That's fine… Yūwaku," he christens her. It's not like he can run comfortably right now, anyway.

A smile tugs the corner of her mouth at the chosen name and Yūwaku lowers herself to sit upon the settee. "Please join me Sukea," she invites him.

The silver-haired shinobi hesitates at the unfamiliar moniker, but recovers and ambles to the settee, perching at the other end.

"I know who you are, but assumed you'd prefer to step outside yourself, just a little," she pacifies.

Then she winks. "Let's have a little chat. I'm sure you understand why you're here. What do you know of women?"

He cringes at this. "I'm no virgin," his low voice attests.

"I see. And what is your opinion of sex?"

Reaching for the teapot, the words _'necessary,' 'release,'_ and _'messy'_ flood his mind. Before he can arrange more impressive words or at least a clever deflection, she places a hand on his arm. "Patience, Sukea. It'll be better if you leave it a little longer."

He leaves the tea to steep, and tries to put her off, "I've also read Master Jiraiya's Icha Icha novel."

Both her eyes meet his exposed one, and Yūwaku smiles openly at this. He schools his features behind his mask, surprised that this pleases her. _'But I'm happy she's pleased.'_

And she's correct, they both understand why he's here.

"You have a lovely smile, Yūwaku," his soft baritone croons, testing its abilities with a safe compliment. Her smile softens, but it is still there. The shinobi allows a truth, "and beautiful eyes."

"Are you flirting with me, Sukea?" she teases.

"I'm trying to," he chuckles lightly, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not really good at flirting with girls, I guess."

"I'm not a girl. I'm a woman. There is a difference between the two, you know."

"So I'm learning," he earns another smile. _'Good.'_

"Well," Yūwaku begins again, "sex is no longer a mystery to you. That's fine. We'll focus on other aspects of seduction."

The visible portion of his face goes blank. Undeterred, she continues:

"The art of seduction is psychological. There are two factors to analyze. First," she holds up one graceful finger "understanding what is seductive about you, yourself. Second," she holds up another digit "learning what will tempt, and how to tempt, your target." Stormy eyes fix on him as the astute woman lowers her hand before continuing.

"You seduce a person by exhibiting how much effort you're willing to invest on their behalf, by showing them how much you think they're worth. Seducers are able to disengage from their identity. They take pleasure in performing, free from the restraints of having to be themselves.

"When you adopt the role of seducer, you will view your target differently. A master of seduction identifies which actions to perform for the target, effectively penetrating their defenses, causing them to surrender.

"While the art of seduction is often associated with sexual encounters, I imagine this talent could be applied to many areas in your line of work," she finishes the tutorial.

 _'Yes. Yes, it could. I like the sound of this skill very, very much.'_ "Hmm," he acknowledges his eagerness to learn as all good secretive shinobi should.

"The tea should be ready now if you're still willing to pour for us?" Yūwaku smiles, as she bends forward to remove her heeled shoes.

The commotion near her bewitching legs distracts his right eye not once, not twice, but three times as he pours the tea.

"These are new shoes," she invents an excuse for his rogue eye. "I like them, but they hurt my feet more than I anticipated they would."

Situating herself so the armrest supports her, she extends her legs on the settee between them and accepts a cup of tea from him. Reclining with his cup of tea, the ANBU looks to the stormy eyes he's already deemed beautiful. _'Only now they're more beautiful'_ he reckons, as they look at him as no woman had ever looked at him before.

Yūwaku slips into character and waits for her silver-haired guest to assume his role. Scrambling for a costume, he pulls his mask down, removing the face most have come to recognize.

His disguise is uncomfortable at first, and the actor is itching with self-awareness. Needing a transition between masked and unmasked, he relies on the cup of tea, quickly depleting the contents of his prop. One agitated eye revisits all six exits before landing on nearby toes encased in nylon; toes that belong to sore feet.

His empty teacup is returned to the serving tray. Armguards and ANBU gloves soon join it on the table in front of the settee, and Sukea's debut performance begins.

While lifting her left foot onto his leg, his fingers warm her toes while his thumbs press slow circles into the arch. Yūwaku hums a little, her head tilting against the back of the settee. While she relaxes into his touch, he's fascinated by the texture of nylon against her skin. The barely-there barrier holds his interest perhaps too long, "don't forget the other foot," she advises "it's getting jealous."

He sets one extremity down so his ministrations can continue on the envious other. While her right foot enjoys his attention, the left sneaks further into his lap, brushing against his crotch. An involuntary twitch from the region makes him flush up to his ears. He chances a glance at her face and both her stormy eyes meet his grey one as she casually sips her tea.

"There's nothing wrong with becoming aroused when you're in a situation like this, Sukea," Yūwaku reassures him. "It's good for a woman's ego. Knowing you find me desirable excites me, too."

Whether it's the repeated use of his pseudonym or the favorable acknowledgment of his body, he's bolstered to explore her further. A single grey eye admires the way her stormy ones flutter closed, how her lips part with a sigh as encouraged hands drift above her ankle. The movement of gently kneading her calf causes the dress to shift, exposing more of her leg through the widening fissure of the silk cloth. As supple as her calf appears, it's the lacy hem of the stocking that beckons, now. Hurried fingers forge a bold trail from the front to the inside of her thigh.

"Don't be too hasty," Yūwaku chides softly. "I was enjoying your hands on my calf. Would keep them there a little longer, Sukea?"

The impatient hand takes her empty teacup from her and returns it to the serving tray. _'Be patient while the tea steeps,'_ he aligns her gentle admonishments. He's not discouraged. Returning his hands to her right calf, his quick and curious mind harvests other clues from their visit thus far. The foot in his lap flirts with him again, eliciting a spasm that speaks of the urgency growing within him. _'I am taking pleasure from investing in her.'_ Sukea is evolving into a willing participant in the lesson, and Yūwaku has his full attention now.

Matching his body to his mind, he angles himself towards her. Gently laying her right leg down, he reaches for the left calf. Fingers massage the muscle as tentative lips press small kisses along the front of her lower leg. He lazily progresses higher, until a caress at the back of her knee produces a gasp. His lone eye floats up to see the woman pull the sticks from the back of her head. Her long, shiny black hair cascades past her shoulders and her head falls back with a sigh. An intriguing blush blooms above the bodice of her dress, and kissing her kneecap helps to spread it.

The deliberate brush of her right foot at his groin tugs a small grunt from the back of his throat. A single dark eye closes briefly, and when it reopens, two stormy ones focus on it. Resting his chin on her knee, Sukea and Yūwaku spare a moment to smirk at one another.

She reaches first, signaling him to come closer. Pulling himself to his knees on the settee, he props himself to hover above her. Stormy eyes closed and her lips come up against his briefly, then she pulls back to regard him. Taking the cue from her smile, he bows down for another, longer kiss. She gently sucks his bottom lip, he responds by tracing her upper one with his tongue and her lips open to receive it. _'She doesn't taste like a peach,'_ he considers the strange expectation. He savors further exploration of her mouth and concludes her taste is that of some undiscovered and still nameless fruit, complemented by jasmine tea.

When Yūwaku releases him from the kiss, he's nearly suffocating. This man isn't a kissing enthusiast, for obvious reasons. However, he'd spent most of this visit shedding predispositions, so…

Sukea sits back on his ankles, pulling Yūwaku up with him. Securing her body to him, his one eye darts between her two. Then, he crushes her mouth with his.

It's another long, breathless while and a proper messing of her hair before she breaks that kiss, too. Her hands rest on his broad shoulders, creating some space and she repositions herself so they are both kneeling on the settee.

"There's something I've wanted to ask you since you arrived," Yūwaku confesses. "Did you come here expecting a battle?"

"What makes you think that?" Sukea prefers to answer questions with questions, too.

She arches an eyebrow before removing the chokutō from his back.

Next was the tantō.

The senbon sidearm, both shuriken hip pouches, and all five kunai leg holsters follow.

"…be thankful I left my sandals at the door."

She giggles, and he smirks for evoking such a girlish sound from this woman.

Her fingers trace over the straps of his armored vest which he removes himself, and lets it fall to the floor with a solid, satisfying, **clunk**.

Yūwaku reaches for his hitai-ate, but he stops her, gently catching her hand in his. His lips brush over her knuckles, "That bit stays," he requests. _'I don't want to burden Sukea with an eye that is neither his nor mine.'_

The eye that is still his climbs up to both of her stormy ones and when it reaches them, her smile is already waiting for him. Relief washes over him, appreciating the proffered alternative to the familiar, horrible memories threatening to interrupt his performance.

Sukea's right hand tangles in Yūwaku's long, shiny black hair as she pulls his left hand to her face. Closing her eyes, she grazes her cheek with his fingers. _'Everything about her is soft and silky,'_ he thinks. From her attire to her voice to her movements, hair, skin, and especially, her lips. Lips that are parting again to draw two of his fingers into her mouth. Yūwaku sucks the fingers, and the effect is immediate. The sensation reaches below his abdomen, and Sukea's breath enters as a hiss through his teeth. She parts the fingers inside her mouth with her tongue, stroking between them as she slowly opens her stormy eyes again. His trousers reach their limit, struggling to contain him at this combined promise and request.

Letting his fingers fall from her mouth, her hands race up the front of his torso, pushing the sleeveless ANBU shirt with them. The fingernails of one hand slowly rake back down his bared chest, while the other lightly tugs down at the pooled fabric of the attached mask. His saliva coated fingers stroke her spine, enjoying the feel of silk against her skin. A talented, feminine mouth connects to his collarbone and kisses, sucks, licks and nips any bit of exposed skin it meets. Yūwaku nudges his earlobe, and then sucks that, too. Brushing the hair at the back of his neck with her fingers, she purrs, "you have one hot, fucking body." Although her touches and kisses prove her opinion, the words provide a validation he didn't know he needed. Her affirmation accumulates in the arousal between his legs and strengthens it.

Yūwaku honors his request to keep the forehead protector in place; she doesn't pull his shirt up and over his head. Instead, the hand on his torso travels lower. When it reaches the waistline of his trousers, the tip of his cock greets her there. Humming her approval, she presses her palm against his length through the fabric. "Don't worry, sweet baby. I'll take care of you," she repeats her promise.

In contrast to this pledge, Yūwaku tears herself from Sukea to stand before him on the floor between the table and the settee. Smirking at her mussed hair, he takes pride in his handiwork and investigates how else her body betrays her arousal. There's a glimmer in her stormy eyes. Parted lips are fuller, darker as her tongue darts out to lick them. She's breathing faster, deeper. The blush he'd admired earlier is saturating her skin. Pointed nipples are straining against the dark blue silk of her dress.

 _I can relate,_ he reaches out to run a finger over one of the delicate bumps protruding from the slight swell in her bodice. He's denied the connection, however. She pulls the sash of her dress to open it, and it drops to the floor.

Sukea is enthralled, licking his lips and looking all he wants. One grey eye perceives this curve, and that curve and the other curves layered upon curves. Scouring lower, wondering at how Yūwaku's petite silhouette could hide such long, long legs. _'Fuck, those legs.'_ His eye strokes the black nylon stockings hemmed with lace above her knees and topped with the fair skin of her thighs. His heated gaze consumes the place where they meet. Black silk panties edged with lace and topped with a tiny black bow. _'Fucking beautiful,'_ he approves.

His survey continues up the trail of her hip bones, abdomen, navel, and stopping short at her bared modest breasts. _'Fuck me. She's been walking and making tea and sitting and talking and getting her feet rubbed without wearing a bra.'_ Those pretty pink nipples were just right there waiting for him this whole time.

Sukea's one dark eye migrates to her stormy two, and when the three meet, hers are sparkling. Yūwaku is happy to be on display, eager for his estimation. He starts to give it, "You're so…"

 _'Beautiful? Stunning? Fucking sexy and you know it?'_

"Come here," he commands instead.

Yūwaku closes the distance in a heartbeat. There is so much about her that his restless hands want to grab at, as he keeps her pressed to his body. A clothed cock pushes tenaciously against the bare skin of her thigh. With her arms encircling his neck, they are **kissing** again. There's nothing gentle or easy about this kiss though, and it's his favorite one so far. Sukea breaks the kiss before he's winded, freeing his tongue to gloss a path over her jawline, under her chin, and down her neck. He nips her collarbone, imitating her previous attention to him.

A feminine moan fills the room when he ducks his head to sample her right breast. Her cry is prolonged, escalating in pitch and volume as his tongue flicks out at the peak it finds there. His hot, hungry mouth tries to engulf the breast entirely while Sukea's right hand seeks the left tit before it can become jealous as her feet had done.

And he's snatched to another place, another moment he found his right hand pressed to a woman's chest. Only that wasn't a woman, it was a girl, and the hand wasn't on her chest, it was inside it. His performance compromised, the ninja's hand starts to shake. _'No, fuck no. Not now. I don't want to see it. I don't want to hear it.'_

 _"Ka…ka…"_

"Shit Sukea, please. Please touch me lower." Yūwaku's voice is louder than the one haunting him.

"That's it, baby. Talk to me," he prays against her breast. _'Yes, talk to me. Pull me back to right here and right now.'_ "Tell me what you want," _'ground me in this moment,'_ "tell me exactly what you need," _'and keep me here.'_

"Lay me down, please," the actor recovers at her breathless direction.

Quick as anything, Sukea scoops her up and lays her down right there on that settee.

His knees crash to the floor, crushing her discarded dress beneath them and he threads his torso between her lower limbs. Fingers hook in the lacy circlet on her left leg, and his starving mouth devours the path of exposed skin as the stocking is peeled down, down, down and off. He rests her left foot on his shoulder and looks to her expectantly.

Yūwaku's stormy eyes are darker than before and unfocused as she capitulates. She's panting, chest rising and falling, her hips gently rocking up and down. Teasing her breast with her right hand while her left tangles in her long, shiny black hair. She's simulating Sukea's touch and whispers, "please."

"Please what, baby girl?" his variation of her pet name slips too easily from his lips, and is thrown back at her.

She whimpers, moving her hand from her breast down until it disappears inside her black silk panties.

"Fuck," he expels. Pulling the crotch of her panties aside with his right hand he liberates his cock from his trousers with the left. _'I'm so hard it hurts.'_

Yūwaku's graceful middle finger dips between the lips of her hairless sex, and it comes out shining and slick. Sukea's rough thumb traces the tip of his cock, catching his own fluid there. She slowly circles the apex of her sex, and he slowly strokes his shaft.

"Please Sukea," Yūwaku whispers again. "I want your mouth on me. I want your tongue, your fingers in my pussy. I need you to touch me here."

He could've come at that. He almost did. But he's holding on until his cock occupies that clever, dirty little peach-like mouth of hers. Hers will be the first mouth its ever been in.

He didn't lie to her, he's not a virgin, and he's pretty sure he knows what to do with his fingers. And although he's never had his mouth on a pussy before, Sukea has been investing in Yūwaku, learning her body. "Ok baby, relax and let me take care of you," he convinces them both of his confidence.

Steady hands pull the black silk panties off her. Her finger is still rubbing as he returns her legs to his shoulders. Positioning the middle finger of his right hand at her entrance, he pauses to look up at her.

Stormy eyes flutter closed, her head falls back, and Yūwaku groans when he enters her. She was beyond ready, and his finger slides all the way in. Inner walls clench to keep him inside her. He removes himself and she whimpers but watches as he sucks his finger clean to taste her.

 _'Icha Icha described this taste perfectly,'_ he thinks, _'and I want more of it.'_

He draws his finger from his mouth, revealing a smirk that lingers there as the finger enters her again. Yūwaku gasps as Sukea slowly plays with her. Rubbing herself harder, faster and begging "please please please, more." Taking another cue from their visit together, he adds a second digit.

Sukea is rewarded with another, louder feminine moan. Yūwaku drives herself into his hand when his fingers begin fucking her in earnest. He rips his eye from her loss of control, knowing that there's one more thing he needs to do for her, and lowers his head.

Replacing her finger with his tongue, he licks tight, little circles there, copying her movements. The last thread of her composure breaks and her legs tremble on his shoulders.

She cries out, "yes! Oh please baby, yes! Suck my clit!" _'Hmm. So this is the clit,'_ he reminds himself never to forget that. Sucking it into his mouth, he tickles the little bead with his tongue.

Sukea has given Yūwaku everything she's asked for. She cries again, "I'm going to come, oh fuck, baby you're making me come so hard!"

Her body stills and he spreads his fingers, moving them inside her where she's contracting, squeezing so tightly it knocks his breath out. Resting his cheek against her thigh, he admires the exquisite pain-pleasure expression on her face, every sound she utters.

Slow strokes bring her down gently. She's so wet, so much wetter than even a moment ago. His mouth reclaims her pussy, his tongue slinking inside to lap at her, and drinks her in. Stormy eyes and the biggest smile yet are waiting when he resurfaces. His baritone voice allows another truth as it rumbles in the room again, "You are the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

His hard, insistent cock twitches yet again, and he groans into her leg.

Yūwaku shifts her focus over the side of the settee to examine his inflexible member, still swaying free after his attempt to relieve some of the pressure. She coos "my sweet baby, look at you. I promised to take care of you and now, I will. What would you like me to do for you, Sukea?"

Unweaving himself from her legs, he sits once more upon the settee. Donning one stocking and a smile, she settles herself next to him on her knees. Finally reaching to touch him, he leads her hand in his preferred pace. "Put it in your mouth," Sukea urges.

Keeping both her eyes on his one, she spreads his legs wider. Yūwaku's head hovers above his lap, her free hand pulling his trousers a bit further out of the way. He lifts his shirt above his abdomen with one hand and locks his fingers of the other in her long, shiny black hair. Anticipation surges through him when her tongue pokes out to tease at the purple tip, licking at the fluid that's been waiting for her for so long. "Suck me," he clarifies.

And she does. He's too far gone to be teased. Yūwaku wraps her lips around his cock and sucks it all the way in. She strokes the underside of his shaft with her tongue as she pulls back up and looks him straight in the eye. "Fuck, baby girl. Make me come," Sukea's trying not to moan. _'I'm pretty sure there's a shinobi rule about that, but I forget which number it is just now…'_

She hums as she swallows him further in and he forgets his name, too. Both of them. She feels so damn good.

"You feel so damn good," he encourages her, using what remains of his restraint to hold her hair up, instead of holding her head still and thrusting up into her mouth.

As she takes him in faster, sucks him harder, her tongue feels like it's everywhere at once. But it's when she cradles his scrotum in her hand and gently squeezes that he doesn't hold back, he can't anymore. "Swallow it, all of it," is the breathy forewarning he musters.

He watches his cock penetrate her mouth, and his orgasm hits him hard, so hard, that his hips lift and he's panting and gasping and grunting. She swallows every drop he gives, and her tongue comes back to lick his cock clean.

Yūwaku rests her head in his lap as he catches his breath. His sated cock is kissed and put away inside his trousers. _'He's a trooper, that one. He deserves to be tucked in tonight,'_ the silver-haired man congratulates himself.

As he combs the fingers of one hand through her long, shiny black hair, his calloused fingertips from the other drift up and down her leg as the pair stay suspended in a quiet moment.

"I'm thinking of getting a settee for my apartment," he fills the void. She giggles like a girl at that.

"You're a quick learner," she acknowledges.

 _'I have someone else to thank for that,'_ he attributes the Sharingan, the left eye that isn't his. "You think so?" the modest ANBU captain deflects the compliment.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbles to his lap.

Evaluating the last couple of hours, he admits to himself that he is a little more than a little drained physically, mentally. He considers what he had gained, who he had escaped, what he had beaten back and who he became.

 _'Not drained,'_ he corrects himself, ' _satisfied.'_

"You're observant and cautious," Yūwaku interrupts his thoughts. "You have good instincts, trust them. You can rely on yourself.

"Try to remember that, as much as anyone else, you yourself, are worthy of your own good opinion."

Unsure of how to reciprocate her kind words, the ninja leans over to kiss her, slowly and softly. "Thank you, Yūwaku," and she smiles for him again.

Thirty minutes later, a silver-haired shinobi strolls through the entrance of an inn where he and Jiraiya are staying the night. The mask is back in place. He's comfortably attired in weapons again.

Opening the door to the shared room rouses the Sannin from his writing, and the ANBU squad captain secretly hopes it's an Icha Icha sequel. "Welcome back, kid!"

"Yo," the younger ninja returns the greeting.

Too enthusiastically, the Sage presses the ANBU, "So, did you enjoy your visit with Junko?"

 **The End**


End file.
